Chapter 330

The commotion over Xu Damao's family losing a chicken, with the three elders unintentionally doing He Xini and lacking solid evidence, saw the surface investigation gradually subside.

But a colder, more intangible force began to silently spread and solidify within the Siheyuan, eventually forming an invisible yet real wall—a wall that isolated the Jia family's children, especially Bang Geng, from the normal children's social circle.

At first it was merely private discussion and admonition among the adults.

"See? From now on stay away from that Jia family brat, keep your hands honest!"

"We gotta keep a tight watch on our belongings; one can never be too careful about others!"

"Play with Bang Geng? You'll learn nothing good! Hear me?"

These remarks were at first only whispered at the dinner table and at home, admonishing one's own children in low voices. But soon, as "the chicken thief is Bang Geng" became almost a consensus throughout the courtyard, such reminders lost their restraint and even took on open contempt.

That afternoon, the sun was just right, and several older children were playing hopscotch in the front courtyard's open space. Bang Geng, bringing his sister Xiao Dang along, wanted to join; he had just approached when Yan Jiefang jumped back as if stung by a scorpion and shouted loudly, "Don't come over! We won't play with you!"

Beside him, Liu Guangfu also crossed his arms, imitating the adults' tone: "Right! Don't play with thieves! My mom said playing with you will make you bad!"

Bang Geng froze, the expectant smile on his face instantly stiffening and turning red. He stuck out his neck and shouted, "You're talking nonsense! I'm not a thief! I didn't steal the chicken!"

"Pah! It was you who stole it! Everyone in the courtyard knows!" Yan Jiefang pointed rudely at his nose.

"You're framing me! I'll tell Grandma!" Bang Geng, both angry and anxious, had tears welling in his eyes as he grabbed his sister Xiao Dang and started to run back. Xiao Dang, innocent and unaware, was swept up by her brother's emotion and burst into tears, wailing.

Similar scenes kept playing out over the next few days.

In the Central Courtyard, several little girls were kicking shuttlecocks; Xiao Dang stood nearby, eyes longing, just about to reach out to pick up a fallen shuttlecock when the girl's mother immediately poked her head out from the house: "Xiao Dang, go home and play, don't get the shuttlecock dirty." Her words were gentle, but the aloofness and wariness in her gaze pricked like a needle.

In the rear courtyard, several boys were playing marbles; Bang Geng had just squatted down, not yet spoken, when the leader of the group scooped up the marbles, pursed his lips, and said, "All right, all right, it's boring." The crowd scattered with a hustle, leaving Bang Geng alone, standing solitary in the spot.

Even the little girl Yan Jieti of Yan Butai's family in the Front Courtyard was stared down by San Dama, who would not allow her to approach the Jia family children, as if they were some contagion.

Bang Geng's defenses were completely broken.

He first flew into a rage, like a provoked little beast, baring his teeth at the children who wouldn't play with him and even trying to grab their toys by force, which only earned him harsher scolding and even more thorough isolation.

Once, unable to contain his anger, he shoved Yan Jiefang; Yan Jiefang and Bang Geng started arguing, which drew San Dama's tirade of "pointing at the mulberry while cursing the locust tree," and upon hearing the commotion, Jia Zhangshi came out to shout back, making the scene even uglier.

After anger proved ineffective came overwhelming grief and bewilderment. He ran home, flung himself into Jia Zhangshi's arms, and sobbed: "Grandma! They won't play with me! They all say I'm a thief! I'm not! I'm not!"

Jia Zhangshi naturally ached for her grandson, cradling him and cooing, "My heart and liver, my treasure," then launched into even more vicious curses at the neighbors and children: "A bunch of black-hearted, rotten-gutted scum! Bullying my grandson! They'll die badly! Good child, don't cry—we won't play with them; they're not worthy!"

Such unprincipled favoritism and protection not only failed to solve any problem, but further cemented Bang Geng's distorted belief that "I'm not at fault; it's all everyone else's fault."

Gradually, Bang Geng stopped trying to fit in; he began to look at the other children in the courtyard with a gaze mixed with hostility and self-abandonment.

He brought his sister Xiao Dang and the even younger, clueless Huaihua, huddling at their own doorstep or in a corner of the Central Courtyard, watching the other children laugh and play; his gaze, which had started as longing, turned to envy and finally settled into a gloominess unbefitting his age.

Xiao Dang also seemed to dimly grasp that she and her brother were being ostracized, becoming timid and reluctant to approach other children. Only the youngest, Huaihua, remained carefree, yet she too lost much of the joy of playing with peers.

Qin Huairu took in all of this with her eyes and felt it in her heart. How could she not know why her son was isolated? Each time she heard other children's innocent yet cruel words rejecting Bang Geng, saw his eyes shift from anger to hurt to numbness, her heart felt as if sliced by a knife. She knew this was the bitter fruit of the chicken‑theft incident, a collective denial by the whole courtyard of the Jia family's and Bang Geng's character.

She wanted to discipline him, but her mother‑in‑law guarded him like the apple of her eye; any sign of disapproval from her was met with the mother‑in‑law's wailing and blame. She felt a deep sense of helplessness, as if trapped in a great net woven from poverty, her mother‑in‑law's ignorance, her son's obstinacy, and the neighbors' prejudices—the more she struggled, the tighter it bound her.

All she could do after work was drag her exhausted body to spend as much time as possible with the children, trying to compensate for their isolation‑induced wounds with her meager motherly love. But how could that offset the harm inflicted by that cold outside world?

In the West Wing Courtyard, little Li Yaozong continued to practice his horse stance and fist forms every day without fail. He would occasionally pause, curiously gazing at the three solitary figures at the entrance of the Central Courtyard, especially the gloomy‑eyed Bang Geng older brother. He didn't quite understand why everyone refused to play with them; his father only told him to focus on his training and protect his mother and sister.

Li Ping'an saw clearly what was happening in the courtyard. He did not think the adults were overreacting; in an era of scarce resources and great concern for reputation, using isolation to punish and avoid a child suspected of theft and his family was a simple yet effective means of self‑defense.

He merely felt a bit of regret; this boy Bang Geng had basically been utterly ruined by Jia Zhangshi.

"Yaozong," he would occasionally call his son, casually advising, "Focus on your practice; don't let outside matters distract you. Look less, ask less."

He wanted to make sure his son stayed clear of these disputes and grew up in a relatively clean, healthy environment.

The sky over the siheyuan remained the same, the sunshine unchanged, yet the children's world had quietly split apart.

On one side were the normal games of most children; on the other, an island where the three Jia family children were isolated by an invisible wall. This wall, built of suspicion, prejudice, and fact, stood impregnable. On that island, Bang Geng's gaze grew ever more rebellious and unwilling; a seed of resentment had already taken deep root.